Animus Impressions
by TTRAnimus
Summary: I didn't know what I would do. Raphael is blind and I'm just a shell of my former self..." In a world that has been taken over by a mad scientist, the turtles have disbanded. Will brotherhood emerge supreme, or will the scientist conquer them all?
1. Orange Insanity

_Italics_ are flashbacks

**Bold** is thought

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the turtles…if I did they would probably be dead from my tough love. ^^::

Warning: Hints of Raph/Mikey and Don/Leo along with violence. Also, this is based on the "Same as it never Was" episode just a bit.

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**Lower Manhattan, New York**

**November 3****rd****, 2038**

**6:01 PM**

Laughter. Piercing laughter, hateful laughter, whatever you could call the laughter in a negative connotation was what it was. Orange shuddered, the dirty cloth on his nunchakus stained with blood and nervous sweat. A sweat that carried on the smell of salt and water…of the sea that Leonardo and Splinter had made their final crossing overseas before disappearing.

Everything on himself smelled of that accursed salt and water, at least to him, anyway. The dirt on his green body smelled of it, for instance, along with his many scars that were caked in blood and horrid sewer water. A source of it also seemed to be his tattered, no longer supple, leather belt that held his nunchakus as well as his torn and bloodstained orange mask.

Shaking his head as he crossed into an abandoned alleyway, he dipped his body into the cool shadows like a fish back in native water. Normally, Orange would have stopped for a moment…would have thought about calling Red, but not today. The laughter was following him even worse then it had been over the past few years. It used to disappear after a few moments, but now it followed him like the guilt over Leo.

Things had changed over the past couple of years; the city had had a sudden boom in technological advances due to a mysterious scientist. The mysterious "savior" had set up many a device, many a trap, for the unsuspecting citizens. For once, the politicians had been right- he was too good to be true. Now everyone lived in fear, not because of the Shredder, but because of robots, machinery, and the scientist himself.

Orange, previously named Michelangelo Splinter, now had to live both in fear of the humans and the robots. It was this fear that drove both him and Raphael "Red" Splinter, to change their names into the color of their masks. The enemy had used their names to trick them once before…and that treacherous trick had cost the two turtles another two family members…April and Casey.

He gave a smirk, chiding himself about thinking such things. However, thinking about fear had made him forget the laughter long enough to catch something with his sensitive ears. Orange turned his head suddenly to the alleyway entrance, his breath hitching as a mouser walked into the alleyway. These mousers were similar to those of Baxter Stockman, the loony scientist who the mutant turtle and his brothers had faced oh so long ago, but very much improved. Orange didn't really fear these mousers, despite their vast improvements, but he had to get rid of them. If not for his own safety, then for his brother, who he knew was still taking it easy after last week's fight against the scientist's robotic foot soldiers.

Orange took out his nunchakus, twirling them silently as he circled his prey, in the shadows. The "kill" was silent, even with his noisy nunchakus. He couldn't help but smile as he saw the now broken mouser fall to the ground, its head a deep welt that made it look even more hated. It was a weak one, probably a prototype that had gotten off of its regular schedule, Orange noted.

A chorus of chuckles arose from out of nowhere; the laughter's ringing slicing fresh wounds into painful memories. The sound was like pizza, or ice cream, while bearing the bitter taste of cyanide or of another unknown poison. Orange stumbled away from the mouser, dropping his nunchakus to the ground as the world went vertigo for a moment. **SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT THE DAMN UP! **Orange screamed to himself, in his head, punching the wall next to his right hand.

He looked like Red for a moment, his fresh anger searing itself on his right hand in the form of a new gash, a new, tiny scar. "Cowabunga bastard…," he gasped, giving a dark chuckle as he removed his bloody knuckle from the wall. He turned, not glancing at the wrangled metallic "flesh" of the mouser, but at the nunchakus on the ground. Orange stared for a minute, caught in his own head again, before giving a tedious sigh and picking them up.

He turned them for a second before placing them on his tattered belt. The twirling always helped to clear his mind and remind him of priorities. In that one second, he remembered he had to meet Red at their old home, the most painful home in his own memory. Orange gave a sigh, looking up at the darkening sky before he took off, fading like a shadow into the falling nighttime.

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	2. Red Hatred

Chapter 2

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**Lower Manhattan, New York**

**November 3, 2038**

**7:08 PM**

He could hear the sounds of blood splatter, of screams as people were torn apart by angry machines. Anger. The scarred, blind turtle felt that emotion more than anything else. Licking his dried, chapped lips as he crept through the shadows, the shadows he could no longer see. It was ironic, the only thing that kept him fighting against the machines was the machine attached to his left temple. It was an "illegal" machine, one that had been put on him by an unspecialized individual. He had been that desperate. The device in question was a black box of sorts with several buttons on it. It always had bandages over it, to protect it from the elements and from banging. These bandages covered the top half of his head, though not under his red mask in which the eye holes were sewn shut.

He pushed a red button on his device, and turned the knob as silverish white lines came into his brain. It took a second, but the lines shifted and calmed down until they were an outline of the world around him. The dark, dank world actually looked beautiful behind his crippled eyes. Raph would have been deceived, like Eve with the dangerous devil snake, if not for the couldn't help them, though. They were probably already dead. He felt himself wanting to yell at something, to cause pain, harm, or death to anything that passed by him at that instance. Even now, he still burned with fury over what the scientist had turned this world into.

Raphael cursed under his breath, moving his head around to look at his surroundings as he unconsciously patted the pockets of his black trench coat. He gave a smirk as he noticed that there was no one around his location, not one soul that he could rightfully take his anger out on.

"What do you know, when I don't want a pest, I get one and when I want one I get NO ONE," Raph vented angrily, carefully walking to the end of the alleyway.

At the end of this alleyway there was one of the old fashioned manholes. No "techo-geeky" thing had happened to this manhole, and the mutant turtle was glad about that. Those modern manholes had given him quite the electric shock the last time, and, needless to say, it was unpleasant He lifted the manhole gently, making sure not to make a bit ruckus. Even though he was sure there was no one around, he looked around anyway. In this world no one could be too cautious, especially a giant mutant turtle who was near to being public enemy number one.

Raphael had lost his eyesight due to making a ruckus, and he wasn't too keen on repeating the experience. He grasped the rusting ladder with his right, rough hand and swung his feet down to where they were also on the ladder. Raphael felt his old "rebellious teen" reflexes kick in as he immediately closed the manhole cover and dropped onto the slimy floor of the abandoned sewer tunnels. The horrid stench down here would have made anyone retch, even Raphael would have had he not been preoccupied with the joys of being home. Yes, he still considered this his home, even after Donnie's departure and Leo's as well as Master Splinter's disappearance. Raphael didn't live here though- it was too dangerous. It was always too dangerous to have what he wanted. Raphael took the quickest route to where he knew his littlest brother would be, going right, then left then right again as he ran. His feet made splashing sounds on the wet concrete and stone of the old underground tunnels, a squelching noise that reminded him of rats. It wasn't long until Raph could hear the news blaring out of the clock tower in Lower Manhattan.

There was a clock tower that had been built not long after the scientist had taken over. If anything was a symbol for the dark days of this future, it was that clock tower and its blaring noise. Raphael turned left at where he heard the sounds, not keen on getting caught up top by a policeman. The leather also made the squelching noise due to the age of the coat and the fact that it was ruined from wear and tear. East of Harlem, Raphael stopped, recognizing through the black box where this place was. This was where one of the many homes that he and Mikey shared was located. He even recognized the abandoned DVD collection that was now dirty and wet. Raphael gave a small cough, as if trying to expel all of the hatred and loathing that he held for the outside world's fate before going into the small lair. He wouldn't pollute the air here, especially since this was the home that they were in before Donnie left after the disappearances.

"Mikey?" he called out, shocked at how feeble his voice sounded. Raphael was supposed to be the mean butt-kicking machine, not some old man!

Giving a growl, he said in a more commanding tone that made his voice hurt from too many battle cries, "MIKEY! I know you're in here you lame-brain!"

A dark chuckle reverberated around the cave, not Mikey's lighthearted chuckles that had warmed him when he had gone into depression. He felt a fellow voice creak, like a potential murder's footsteps on the floorboards of an old house…

"I'm here…Red"

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End file.
